


Mandatory Leave

by seventhe



Series: Sev's Commission Run 2019 [9]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/pseuds/seventhe
Summary: “Yo,” Duo greeted him, breezing past into Heero’s apartment. “Figured you’d be as out-of-sorts as I am. Probably more, really, cause I’m not the kinda guy who’s not gonna enjoy a few days on the D-L, you know, so I figured I’d come help you out.”Heero and Duo are assigned mandatory leave after a slew of missions. Duo decides Heero needs some guidance as to how to enjoy it. Heero decides he needs to do something about Duo.





	Mandatory Leave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kebarnett88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kebarnett88/gifts).



> This is a commission for @kebarnett88! Based on a prompt for 1x2x1, mutual pining, eventual get-together. MAN this was a blast from the past, and i LOVED it. TY forever to feathers for the beta read-over.

Heero was most definitely not expecting the knock on the door. The pilots, and certain Preventers, and other important people knew his apartment address, yes; but he’d been assigned two weeks of mandatory leave, and most of them would know he wasn’t available for missions or consulting or much of anything useful, really, unless he wanted to risk the wrath of Une and Po together. (Heero knew most of his friends were more afraid of said wrath than he was, which was the real reason most of them would stay away.)

He checked the hidden camera system. It was Duo. Which was odd, because Duo had been assigned mandatory leave like he had. They’d been off doing a collection of missions for months _before_ they’d been assigned the three-month watch on L2, and Control had been absolutely specific and non-negotiable about their two weeks of doing nothing related to Preventers (or Colony) business at all. Duo would know better than to come with a question, or a research request, or a mission idea. Wouldn’t he?

Heero decided it couldn’t hurt to open the door. They could at least discuss past missions, even if they were forbidden from discussing future ones.

“Yo,” Duo greeted him, breezing past into Heero’s apartment. “Figured you’d be as out-of-sorts as I am. Probably more, really, cause I’m not the kinda guy who’s not gonna enjoy a few days on the D-L, you know, so I figured I’d come help you out.”

Heero had learnt, over the years, that Duo usually used a large number of words to make a much smaller point. It had taken a while for him to build a mental filter of sorts that was able to evaluate the phrases used by his friend and translate them into messages that made some sort of sense. He’d also learnt that not everything Duo said made sense. To his distress, he’d learnt a lot of things about Duo from years of observation, increasingly interested and curious until it had become some sort of _yearning_ he could barely put his own, stilted, broken words towards explaining.

“I wasn’t aware I required assistance,” he said, and gritted his teeth at how stilted he sounded. He was never able to make his own speech as free, thoughtless, _casual_ as Duo’s managed to be; he despaired, occasionally, of ever being able to say certain things to Duo, since he seemed to be unable of making any particular sentence sound like anything other than a mission report.

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t _require_ it,” Duo said, dragging the words out as if they meant other things entirely. “But I’m here to offer it, anyway. C’mon. Vacation is for relaxing, and downtime is for making someone else cook for you.”

“Cook?” Heero was momentarily confused; his own cooking skills extended to microwaveable fare, those noodles that only required boiling water, and things that could be eaten raw. Beyond that he had nothing that could at all be considered a meal.

“Yes,” Duo said, laughing, a smile on his face that looked incredibly fond. Heero had tried to spend enough time cataloguing Duo’s expressions that he’d eventually be able to read them, but he never knew whether the fondness he _thought_ he saw was real, something more, or the result of an unmanageably hopeful whim. “I’m taking you out to dinner, 01. C’mon.”

Heero blinked. His own questioning and research had told him that going out to dinner was the kind of activity that might count as a, well, date; but dinner was also something the pilots tended to do casually, automatically, within the small pseudo-family they’d built between them. This made it difficult for Heero to successfully analyze his own position with regards to Duo, which complicated his entire mental capacity when he considered the odd situation between him and his usual partner.

Heero couldn’t even pinpoint the exact date, or moment, or activity, where he’d realized his own interest in Pilot 0-2 was different than his relationship with any other pilot or associate. For a long time he’d thought it was a simple echo of the way they worked together: their partnership was unusually effective, strengths and weaknesses complementing each other in an incredibly efficient way. And yet he’d had thoughts, and feelings - the kinds of things he didn’t have words for; didn’t understand within his own vocabulary - until he’d realized his underlying concept was entirely wrong and he had to reframe everything within a different set of parameters.

He _wanted_ Duo. He wanted to be the closest, the favorite, the preferred; the obvious partner, the best friend, and the potential interest all wrapped up in one. Sometimes he wanted so badly to touch Duo he had to curl his fingers into fists, because he really didn’t know how to do any of it — except his hands would long to reach out, tangle in Duo’s hair, trace his cheekbones and run down his arms. Heero knew well enough to know what this meant; it was just increasingly difficult to admit it to himself. 

“Hey, Heero.” Duo’s voice had gone surprisingly gentle, almost tentative, as if he was concerned. “If you aren’t feeling up to it, we don’t need to go, I just figured I’d—”

“Yes,” Heero said hastily. “Dinner. It’s a good idea.”

Something odd twisted across Duo’s face: Heero wasn’t familiar enough to identify everything, but the final look was still fond and tinged with something else — which Heero ignored because he was unable to categorize it. “Excellent,” Duo said, grinning now, and tugged Heero out the door. “Let’s go.”

——

Heero woke up curious.

He’d dreamt about the dinner, see: not the dinner itself, not the food, that was ridiculous; but he’d dreamt of Duo, leaning over the table, so charming and handsome and _bright._ Duo was so vivid against Heero’s experience: laughing when Heero would be silent, joking when Heero would be serious, drawing him out when Heero might retreat. Duo had always been able to drag these things out of him. And Heero had dreamt — Heero had dreamt that Duo had leant across the table, pulling Heero close, and kissed him.

Heero had thought about it over a hundred times, a hundred different ways. He had no idea what it would be like to press his mouth to Duo’s, but he knew he wanted it, badly, in a way he didn’t even understand. He barely even knew the rules regarding such an act, but he knew he needed to figure them out, because he knew a part of him wanted to attempt it at some point: some point where, given enough data from Duo’s side and enough bravery from his, it made sense as an executable action.

The wanting wasn’t all about the kissing - Heero knew enough to realize what he longed for was deeper than that - but it was that bit of contact that made him curious. What would it be like, to be able to taste his friend, to try to express some of this desire with his mouth? He’d tried it before, certainly, but the circumstances had been different, which invalidated most of the data. Duo had his attention and focus like nobody else.

He was mulling over a coffee, pretending to scroll through the news on his tablet, when his mobile chimed. Surprised, he swiped his phone open to see a message from Duo.

_Pilot 02: yo if ur busy no big deal but im going out of my mind wanna come ovr n play video games??????_

Heero choked on the coffee. Another invitation, so soon? It did align with his perception of his friend; Duo was constantly on the move, energetic, needing things to take up his attention, needing distractions: he always needed to be engaged, with his environment or people or battle. Or, apparently, video games. For a second Heero wondered whether Duo knew what this was doing to him: another day of trying not to stare too long, attempting normal speech rather than stuttered phrasing, and having to keep his hands from reaching out to touch. Could he put up with that for another day?

The potential time with Duo won out over any awkwardness he might consider.

_Pilot 01: Yes._

He stopped to wonder what the protocol was for such an invitation. It was nearly lunch time; would it be too early to come over? Could they spend the entire day together? Without Heero revealing himself too much? Should he offer to bring a meal?

_Pilot 02: sweeeeeeet bro come ovr ny time ill order pizza from that corner place u like_

Interesting. He’d remembered Heero’s appreciation of their crust. What a good friend thing to do; Heero would have to try to pay better attention, in order to do something in return.

———

Unlike Heero, who had accepted Preventers-sponsored quarters, Duo had insisted on finding his own place. It was only a few blocks from Heero, and it was a pleasant walk as far as those things went, but Heero had always been curious as to why Duo would inconvenience himself so. He’d been there a few times, of course, but objectively the apartments functioned exactly the same, and it didn't quite compute. 

He knocked on the door, and heard stumbling and crashing inside before Duo flung the door open. Heero blinked; Duo was wearing sweatpants with a hole in the knee and a soft-looking tank rather than his normal getup. His hair looked messed, strands falling haphazardly from his braid. He grinned at Heero like he’d found the solution to all of his problems, and Heero felt something odd and warm flip over in his chest. 

“I am already having _problems_ with this vacation,” Duo announced, and waved Heero inside.

Duo’s apartment was a motley collection of furniture - some of which might have been picked up off the nearby streets - and was something Heero might describe as _charmingly messy_ ; empty coffee cups and a few beer bottles littered the mismatched tables and the kitchen counter. It was odd, Heero thought, thinking of his own quarters: simple furniture provided by the complex, his few dishes always placed in the sink to soak before he washed them clean. And yet there was a sort of welcoming feeling here: he could picture Duo, falling asleep on the couch, where a couple wrinkled blankets lay puddled to one side.

“Woke up today,” Duo continued, apparently not noticing Heero’s visual interrogation of his living space. “Had no idea what to do. It’s like day two and I’m already bonkers, man. Called Quatre for an update and he _hung up on me_.”

“Of course he did,” Heero replied. “It’s orders.”

Duo chuckled. “Sure, but he could have at least said hi, how’s it going, the world’s still safe today. Right?”

“Of course,” Heero said, having no idea whether or not it was actually right. He could picture Quatre’s face, though, smirking evilly as he hung up on Duo. Quatre always got a kick out of that sort of thing.

“I was about to build a fort and settle into a long day of _Ghost Suspect: After Dark,_ but then I figured if I was climbing up the walls, you’d probably already be on the ceiling going quietly insane.” Duo’s grin turned into something like a smirk as he glanced over at Heero. “Apparently I was right.”

It was less about climbing walls or whatever that meant, and more about having Duo’s attention and company, but Heero nodded. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Wow, chill out, man.” Duo clapped a hand to Heero’s shoulder and squeezed. The contact was warm, friendly; Heero blinked and tried not to lean into it too obviously. “Time to relax. Let’s build a fort and get stupid.”

Heero dedicated himself to learning what, exactly, Duo meant by these phrases. _Building a fort_ meant, apparently: gathering the couch cushions, a very random collection of mismatched pillows, and the somewhat threadbare raggedy blankets, then propping a structure up against the couch frame to create walls and a roof that looked absolutely nothing like any fort Heero had ever been in. It was, however, quite cozy; and it ended up with Duo’s leg pressed up against his, and Duo occasionally leaning into his shoulder to make a point, which Heero was particularly fond of even if it occasionally became hard to breathe.

 _Getting stupid,_ then, meant: the pizza Duo had ordered, bags of chips and snacks, an entire box of cookies, sodas that then became beers, and the _Ghost Suspect_ game, which was apparently a series of mysteries which required solving alongside some particularly creative ghost combat. It was utterly stupid and Heero found himself entirely engaged in the storyline, which starred a young woman who’d died and was attempting to solve her own murder as a ghost. 

Duo was utterly engrossing. He yelled at the screen, the character, the demons trying to eat the character, the pizza, and occasionally Heero, shoving against his shoulder as he happily berated everything up to and including Heero’s controller skills. They failed a few of the mysteries simply because Duo wouldn’t shut up about something long enough for Heero to listen, which just ended in more yelling and Heero successfully smashing Duo’s face with a pillow.

It was… it was - terrifyingly - horrifyingly - absolutely scarily _perfect._ Heero felt his feelings swelling, irrevocably, in response. He wanted to somehow photograph the moments, to collect them inside a surveillance folder, so that he could have this whenever he wanted. He wanted to do this every day, Duo at his side, laughing harder than he’d ever laughed before and _touching,_ lovely fresh touching any time he wanted it. All he had to do was lean in a bit and Duo leaned back, grinning, smirking, and it was absolutely nearly everything Heero wanted.

It was awful. Dangerous, really; how bad Heero _wanted_. He was aware that nothing would ever be the same between them, even as he couldn’t help himself, greedily taking everything Duo seemed to be offering up. If Duo knew, would he be surprised? Would he be horrified? Would he dismantle this fort, move away, set up that barrier of space between them? The analytical part of Heero’s brain was whirling away in its own calculations, out of his control, wondering how he could ever approach such a thing to a friend who was unlikely to return this sort of soft, heartfelt regard.

The afternoon had slid into evening. Heero was lounged back against the couch frame, propped up by a couple pillows, his third beer in his hand. He couldn’t ever remember feeling so relaxed. Beside him, Duo was wrestling with the controller, trying to get their ghost through a maze; his body moved with every turn, into Heero’s arm and then away, a litany of vulgar commentary muttered in the background.

If Heero stretched - if he moved his arm a bit - he could get it somewhat behind Duo’s back. Duo might lean into him as if Heero were holding him. Was that something friends did? Was it something partners could do? He’d quite like it if Duo were to do so, but something stopped him from making the movement.

Eventually it was late enough to make it awkward, and Heero said, “I should probably head home.”

“You sure, man?” Duo ran his hand through his hair, displacing it until it looked something like a wild crown. “You’re welcome to crash here. On the couch, I mean. Or in the fort. Or in my room.” Duo paused, and swallowed, and Heero wondered why. “Anyway. You don’t need to walk home this late.”

“I’m the most dangerous thing out there,” Heero said, deadpan, because he _was_ , but also because he wanted to make Duo laugh.

To his surprise, Duo’s smile quirked sideways. “You’re really not,” he said, and brought a hand up to cup Heero’s cheek. 

Heero suddenly couldn’t breathe. Duo’s hand was warm, and he’d already leaned a bit into it not meaning to, and the look in Duo’s eyes was somewhat indecipherable at the moment because he couldn’t catch his breath and why was he looking at Duo’s mouth, now? With Duo’s hand on his face to enjoy?

Duo’s eyes dropped down to Heero’s mouth for a second, and Heero choked on his next breath, but then Duo blinked and dropped his hand and turned away a bit, like he were a little disappointed. The behaviour made no sense at all, so Heero stored it away to consider later.

“Just be careful,” Duo said, and Heero gave him a serious nod, so that Duo knew he was listening.

\------

Heero’s own quarters seemed much too quiet after that. Too quiet, too bland, too ordered; there had been something organic about Duo’s motley collection, something comfortable and lived-in and personable. Heero didn’t have a single pillow anywhere but his bed, where he had the usual Preventers-issued pillow in its Preventers-issued slip. He lay there now, on issued sheets, staring at the ceiling. 

He _wanted._ Wanted with a powerful yearning. The afternoon had been like a different world, a place where he and Duo could exist together. He regretted not putting his arm around Duo. He regretted, to be honest, not pulling Duo close enough for a hug, perhaps for a kiss. How on earth was he going to deal with this situation?

The facts. What he wanted, Heero thought, was a place where Duo accepted his -- no, not just accepted. Reciprocated his own feelings. So. Evaluate the data. Determine a path forward, a plan, to determine whether this option could be a possibility or not.

Evaluate risks. If Duo was not amenable to the relationship, what was the most likely outcome? Awkwardness, Heero thought, but a continued friendship, most likely. What was the least desirable outcome? A break in their partnership, Duo distancing himself, Heero left broken-hearted. Non-ideal. To be avoided at all costs.

Heero paused in his own thoughts. _Broken-hearted?_

It was, apparently, time to admit to his poor, technical, analytical brainstem that he was, in fact, falling for Duo. Romantically. Heero shaped the words with his mouth, into the darkness. It made him feel much better, and also much worse.

\------

A week later, Heero was suffering.

A week. An entire week of Duo: reaching out, whether for dinner or for games or for a movie night that had gone until 0300 and left Heero asleep on Duo’s couch; had left him there to see Duo, blinking thickly through sleepy eyes, fumbling with his coffeepot in the morning. A week of texts: silly things Duo saw throughout the day, or on his way to whatever restaurant they were trying. A week of absolutely bombarding Heero with Duo’s attention, his presence, his cheer and snark, his laughter. 

And Heero was slipping, slowly but surely, down a long slope that would lead to the sort of action he anticipated and feared at the same time. He had no idea what Duo’s intentions were, but he knew that he had to do something, or say something, or he’d break. 

So that Saturday morning he took advantage of his early rising habits to text Duo first.

_Pilot 01: Come over for movies?_

They’d been primarily at Duo’s place, unless Duo was coming to grab Heero and tug him out for food. This was a first. Heero wanted the comfort of his own quarters around him if he were going to bring this up. Was he? He didn’t even know. A part of him just wanted to bask in this - their mandatory leave was only two weeks, total - until they inevitably went back to their other lives.

Risk; reward. He’d made these calculations his entire life.

A few hours later - after the news, and halfway into a crossword puzzle - there was a knock at the door. Heero opened it to find Duo, lugging in a large duffel bag and grinning like he’d won some sort of lottery. 

“Go on,” Duo said. “Open it up.”

Heero crouched down and unzipped the duffel. He pulled out -- an assortment of pillows, all squashed to fit, and underneath them two blankets that looked well-used enough to be comfortable.

“I, uh,” Duo said, and there was an uncharacteristic hesitation, and a very uncharacteristic blush across his face when Heero glanced up. “I figured you didn’t have anything, you know, comfy-like, or to set up a fort, so I, um.” Duo swallowed and glanced away. “These are for you.”

Heero blinked. “For me?”

“Yeah,” Duo said, and made eye contact again. He was giving Heero that fond look, the one he still didn’t quite know the meaning of. “I mean, if we’re gonna hang at your place, too, and all.”

Heero felt the warm thing in his chest flip over again. This was something _meaningful_. His brain raced. 

“Thank you,” he said, and stood up, gathering as much as he could in his arms. “Will you help me set it up?”

“Yeah, man,” Duo said, sounding relieved, and grabbed the rest of the pile. He followed Heero over to the Preventers-issued couch, and they both seemed to pause for a moment.

The couch was big enough to comfortably fit three, and haphazardly fit five, as they’d found out before as a team. If he and Duo each took a side, it would be the most comfortable, but then… then there was no pressing their thighs together, no leaning into each others’ shoulders.

“Right,” Duo said, and there was a strain in his voice as if he’d decided something. “Gimme that.” 

Heero relinquished his handful as Duo began to painstakingly set up the couch. He watched Duo, because there was something off about his behavior, something decisive, as if he were preparing to do something. It was unfamiliar, as much of Duo’s behavior had been since he’d entered Heero’s quarters. 

“You sit here,” Duo said, reaching out to grab Heero’s arm. Heero let Duo sit him down on the couch, surrounded by a wall of pillows and within reach of one blanket. “And I,” Duo said, swallowing, as he slid himself in right next to Heero, with contact all alongside their bodies - close enough that the touching was deliberate - it was intentional - “I sit here.”

Heero turned, and paused. Duo pressed all up against him was incredibly distracting, but Duo’s face was open, some sort of hopeful-yet-resigned thing playing about his eyes. “Is this alright?” Duo asked, his voice low.

Heero swallowed. He couldn’t stop glancing down at Duo’s mouth. “Yes,” he said, surprised to find his own voice husky. “This is perfect.”

“Oh,” Duo said aloud, “fuck it,” and then his mouth was on Heero’s and everything sort of shattered.

Heero’s brain, for what might have been the first time ever, fizzled its way to a halt as every cell of his attention turned to the feel of Duo’s lips. It started simple: a statement, a declaration, but then Heero realized what was happening at the same time Duo realized he wasn’t pulling away, and things just fell apart. They bumped noses, and then Heero found his hands were in Duo’s long hair, tugging at his face so that they could align perfectly, just like all the times he’d pictured it in his head. 

Duo made a soft noise and pressed closer, his mouth moving with Heero’s in soft slow motions; Duo’s tongue flicked out against Heero’s lips, and Heero opened his mouth automatically. He had no idea what was going on. He felt warm, a rush moving through his body, and was aware of every place their skin was touching between them. It was like all of his vision had been blocked, something dropped over it, and the only thing he was aware of was Duo -- biting at his lip, _wow,_ how did that feel so _intense_ just with his _mouth;_ Heero tried it back, and Duo made another one of those soft noises in the back of his throat, Heero working to swallow it. 

They finally broke apart, panting. Heero’s hands were still clenched in Duo’s hair and he made his fingers release, slowly, having to instruct them one by one as if he were injured; Duo’s arms had ended up wrapped around Heero’s neck, and he backed off slightly but didn’t let go.

“Did you just,” Duo began, and then laughed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been wanting to do that for _weeks_ now.”

“Should I be sorry?” Heero asked, genuinely concerned, until -- “Weeks?”

Duo flushed again, and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Maybe. I thought you were looking, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Months,” Heero corrected him, suddenly sure of it. “I’m sorry for that. I’m not aware of the protocol.”

Duo laughed, free, happy. “Oh my god,” he said, smirking as he tugged at Heero’s hair. “There’s no protocol. There aren’t any rules.”

“That’s why I’m not very good at this,” Heero growled, as an aside.

Duo grinned. “There’s no good or bad, man, there’s you and me.”

“Well,” Heero had to point out. “That’s good, then.”

Duo blinked, and bit his lip, suddenly looking shy. “Is this… okay? Then? You want to, well, do this?”

“I want to be your partner,” Heero blurted out, because he didn’t know how else to say it but it was far past time he said something definitive. “Yes.”

“Great,” Duo said cheerfully. “I’m going to kiss you again, and then we’re going to watch this movie and actually cuddle. Can you handle those parameters?”

It was teasing, it was charming, it was everything Duo and Heero found himself smiling, almost dumbly. “Mission accepted,” he said, and leaned in to match Duo’s mouth to his own.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Heero POV can be so hard_ lordt save me i hope it worked


End file.
